


How (Not) To Make Friends

by assholemurphy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: I have recently become obsessed with this BrOtp and this is the result, M/M, Mentions of past child abuse, Murphy is very violent, Wells is a precious gem, some alludes to one sided Clarke/Wells, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-04
Updated: 2015-05-04
Packaged: 2018-03-28 23:49:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3874516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/assholemurphy/pseuds/assholemurphy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wells is alone in the woods for a moment away from all the delinquents who blame him for his father's mistakes, Murphy notices and, when Bellamy and Clarke are gone, he takes advantage of the seclusion to finish what he'd started back at the dropship. Wells tries to reason with him and it leads to a... surprising reaction from Murphy. Who knew the kid actually had feelings underneath all that rage and sarcasm?</p>
            </blockquote>





	How (Not) To Make Friends

**Author's Note:**

> I've become obsessed with these two and their potential friendship recently, because Wells is really kind and caring and I think (if Murphy would have stopped trying to fight everything that moved for like, two seconds) Wells would have seen that Murphy needed someone (who's name isn't Bellamy) to pay attention to him and just /care/ about the kid for five seconds. I think they'd have a pretty strange but ultimately good friendship. Idk.

The Earth's silence was almost deafening in comparison to the constant hum of noise that he'd become used to on the Ark and Wells found it to be very unsettling. He could hear every rustle of leaves, every bird chirp, every bug buzzing past him and it drove him up the wall, he felt like he was constantly surrounded by threats, though, he technically was. Everyone on Earth seemed to have some odd against him for the things his father had done, or for the privileges he'd had on the Ark, they all hated him for something and the worst part was, he couldn't blame them.

Their parents and lives had been taken away because of the justice system the Ark had enforced and they needed someone to blame, so they blamed his father. Understandable. He was the one who floated the criminals, he was the one that took their parents and would have eventually floated them as well, they had a right to be angry, he just wished they would direct that anger somewhere else. He understood it but he didn't enjoy it.

If they would just take the time to get to know him instead of assuming he was just like his father, but they weren't going to do that. It was easier to deal with their grief, anger, and pain if they had somewhere to channel it. Wells was that thing and there was nothing he could do but accept it and try to help them where he was allowed. His help went unnoticed and unappreciated, but he still did it, because they were a bunch of reckless children who were going to get themselves killed if they kept on like they were. Maybe Bellamy would pull his head out of his ass and-

A twig snapping behind him had Wells jumping out of his skin, spinning around, eyes wide in fright. He wasn't very skilled at fighting, sure he could hold his own, but not against whatever mutant grizzly beast the radiation had produced. He had no gun, no knife, no weapon at all save for a few sticks lying around, that wasn't much, how the hell was he supposed to protect himself from- “Murphy?”

The delinquent in question smiled, a wicked grin that made Wells certain he should run but he was frozen by shock. Murphy stepped forward, out of the shadow of the trees and into the small clearing, the same sharpened-metal-turned-knife he'd once cut Wells with glinting in the light. “Bellamy and Clarke left to go hunting.” He spoke as though he was amused by something, like he was telling a joke that Wells wasn't in on.

“You came out here to tell me they left?” Wells brow creased in confusion, he knew there had to be more to it than that, Murphy wasn't exactly the helpful type. Still, maybe that was what it was, maybe someone back at camp needed him? “Thanks? I'll head back, then, keep an eye on things until they return.”

“No.” Murphy sniffed, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Wells was beginning to wonder if he had allergies or something, it would explain the sniffing, maybe he should talk to Clarke about that, she might know a way to help. If Murphy was being affected by their new surroundings, others probably were, too. “No, you're not going back.”

“Alright?” Wells drug out the word, still not understanding why Murphy was here. Well, no, he understood, at least, he thought he did, if the knife Murphy held was any clue, but he hoped he was wrong. “Did you need something?”

Murphy let out a bark of a laugh at the question, shaking his head and stepping closer to Wells, “I _needed_ my father. I _needed_ my mother. I _needed_ to not be locked up for something I didn't even do. No, Wells, I don't _need_ anything from you. The princess and Bellamy are gone, that means that no one can come running to save you this time, Wells.”

Wells stepped backwards as Murphy came closer until he was against one of the trees that lined his clearing. It had once been a place of safety and solitude, a place where he could be alone without the stares of the other delinquents boring into him, their whispers following him wherever he went, but now it was going to be his grave if Murphy had he way. “Come on, man, I didn't have anything to do with that.”

“Funny thing how I don't care.” Murphy stopped in front of him, staying back but still close enough so that if Wells tried to run he could easily stop him. “Kind of like how the Chancellor didn't care when my dad begged for his life.”

_He did care, he cared about everyone, he had to._ The words tried to force past Wells tongue but he held them back. He had no proof that his father had actually cared at all, maybe he didn't. He certainly hadn't minded sending Wells to the ground. The sudden spike of bitterness twisted Wells gut and made him sick. If he was going to die he didn't want his last thoughts to be hateful. His father cared, he'd done some terrible things but he hadn't had a choice, and whether Wells approved or not didn't matter. “He was just doing his job. He didn't have a choice.”

“ _He was just doing his job.”_ Murphy mocked, his words spiteful and angry. He didn't care about jobs or choices, Jaha had taken his family from him so he was going to do the same.

Wells grit his teeth, angry surging up like a tidal wave. “It wasn't my fault!” He was so tired of everyone blaming him for what his dad had done. Wells hadn't gotten a say in it, he'd been too young to really understand for most of them. He'd only ever been to one floating, he wasn't able to stop that one, why did they all act like he could have stopped the others? Didn't they realize that he would have if he could have? It wasn't his fault! No one ever bothered to ask him how he felt about the entire fucked up system, did they? He hated it, hated it so damn much, it was so fucked up. People got executed for trying to save their families, for trying to help others, for tiny stupid things that Wells never approved of. He hadn't been consulted, it was his father's doing, his father was the one following the laws and carrying out whatever shitty idea of justice the original Arkers had thought up. Wells had nothing to do with it and he was tired of being blamed for it. “Dammit, Murphy, I'm not my father!”

Murphy laughed, bitter and cruel, “Yeah, well, I can't exactly kill him, now can I?” Wells anger amused hit. It was pointless, he was going to die and screaming about it only made it that much better. Murphy's father had screamed, too, begged for his life. It was almost like justice, in some sick, twisted way. Almost enough to make him feel better, not quite, though. Murphy suspected it would never be enough.

Wells took a deep breath, the anger dissolving as quickly as it came. He wasn't going to get anywhere by shouting. He could try reasoning with Murphy, but the guy didn't seem like the type to listen, but then again, Wells wondered if that was because no one had ever listened to him. _Now is not the time to psychoanalyze the guy with the knife, Wells. Stop feeling sorry for everyone. They wouldn't do the same for you, in fact, one of them is_ _**literally trying to kill you right now, get your shit together.** _ It was a flaw, he guessed, that regardless of the situation he always cared more about the others around him than himself. His mother would be proud but his father had told him to grow up, that it was only going to end up getting him hurt. He was right, it had gotten him hurt, but it had kept Clarke from hating her mother, so, if he died, at least he'd done something right. “Murphy, you're not going to kill me.”

“No, no, I'm pretty sure I am. I mean, that's kind of the plan.”

“Then why haven't you done it already?” He was pushing it, he knew, but maybe if he could just talk some sense into Murphy, get him to think for a second, he could get away. Get someone from camp to help, there had to be someone, like the Finn guy, possibly.

“Excuse me for trying to be nice and give you a chance to make peace with it.” Murphy shrugged, closing the distance between him and pressing his knife into Wells' neck. “If you wanted me to hurry, you could have just said so.”

“No, no, I-” Wells swallowed, feeling the blade bite into his neck, the sharp pain causing him to panic. He forced himself to calm down and speak steadily, “Murphy, stop. It's not going to help anything, it won't make you feel better.”

“It's already making me feel pretty good, actually.” Murphy replied, pressing the knife harder against Wells' skin, a thin line of blood beading around it.

“Stop! Just, stop and listen, okay? My mother- ow!” Wells tried pulling his head back but there was no more room between him and the tree. The only way to go was towards the knife and he was trying to avoid that as best he could. “My mother, she was floated, okay? I know how you-”

“Don't. Don't you dare tell me you know how I feel. Don't you dare tell me you know what it's like to watch you father die just because he was trying to save you. Don't you dare tell me you know what it's like to watch your mother drink herself to death because she just cant handle it. Did your father blame you? Did he? Did he ever smash a bottle over your head or lock you out of your own damn home? Did he ever tell you that you were the reason she died? Because my mother did, Wells, she did because your father floated mine. Don't you dare tell me you know how I feel!” Murphy yelled, his hand shaking as he pulled the blade back slightly, allowing Wells a little bit of relief. “You don't fucking get it.”

“I do. I get that you want someone to blame and that person is my father but you can't get to him so you're willing to settle for me. That's fine. Blame me, hate me, kill me if you have to, but it's not going to bring him back, Murphy. Nothing will ever bring him back so stop trying. Just let it go. Let _him_ go.” Wells took a deep breath when Murphy dropped the knife, the blade falling into the dirt. “Okay, okay, now-”

“Shut up!” Murphy roared, pulling his fist back and swinging, aiming for Wells' face but hitting the tree instead, tiny slivers of bark splintering off and piercing his skin. “Just shut up.”

Wells nodded, pressed between a shaking Murphy and the tree, feeling awkward and out of place as tears slid down Murphy's face. He wasn't supposed to be seeing this, he knew that. This wasn't a willing display of emotion and Wells wasn't sure what to do. He feared what would happen if he touched Murphy, even to comfort him. Go figure, he'd be the only one to consider consoling the boy who, just seconds before, was willing to kill him. That was how his mother had raised him, though. People did stupid things when they had no other way to express themselves, when they had no one to listen to them they got violent, angry, and far too sad. It all just built up and Wells was willing to bet just about anything that was what happened to Murphy. However, that didn't help him with knowing what to do to help the current situation, and not get stabbed in the process. Maybe he should just ask, Murphy would probably scream at him to go away, but at least then he'd know what to do. Bracing himself for another rage-filled explosion, he asked, “Hey, uh, Murphy?”

“How did- How'd y-?” A few stuttered words were the only answer he received. Murphy's voice was rough and quiet, his words falling apart as he said them. He didn't know why he was crying, he never cried, not in front of people, at least. It was weakness and weakness got you hurt, but Wells wasn't going to hurt him. If he was going to he would have already, and Murphy was surprised he hadn't. The knife was there, all Wells had to do was pick it up. It would be the logical thing to do, take out your killer before they could get a hold of themselves and go back to what they were doing. Not that Murphy was going to. As much as it pained him to admit, Wells was right, he wasn't the person Murphy wanted to hurt and hurting him wouldn't solve anything. No matter how many fights Murphy got into, no matter how many people he hurt or who hurt him, it never helped. His father would be disappointed if he could see him right now, willing to kill someone's family just to hurt them, even though he knew how it felt. His father would probably hate Murphy, hell, Murphy hated Murphy. He sucked in a breath and tried again, “How did you let her go?”

“I don't know.” Wells answered honestly. “I just made peace with the fact that she was gone and nothing I did was going to bring her back. I couldn't dwell on it, it hurt but I couldn't let the pain and the grief control me. I couldn't let it turn me into someone I'm not. I didn't want to be that person. She wouldn't have wanted that. So, I dealt with it. I was just a kid, my dad was always there, he helped me a lot, and I had just met Clarke, so I poured all of my attention into her, convinced myself I was in love with her. Who knows, maybe I was, maybe I still am, I don't know. It was an outlet, a way to turn all the negative stuff into positive stuff, I guess? It sounds pretentious, doesn't it?”

“I would expect nothing less from the Chancellor of Earth.” Murphy joked, his voice a bit more stable now. Wells words meant nothing to him, not really, he didn't have someone he could pour his attention into. He had no one who cared about him like Wells' father did. He'd never had anyone to teach him how to deal with his grief so he'd just shoved it down until it boiled over, turning him into the person he was now. “Unfortunately for me, and everyone around me, I suppose, I have already become that person.”

“You can change.” Wells wasn't sure why he said it so quickly or why he'd even thought it to begin with. People like Murphy didn't change, that happen in the real world. Sure, it made for a great story, the bad guy changing his ways and becoming a better person, earning redemption, but Wells had never seen it happen in real life. Of course, there was a first time for everything.

Murphy huffed out a laugh, this one less cruel than the first but no less bitter. It screamed of self-deprecation ad loathing, “Nah, that's not gonna happen.”

“It might.”

“It won't.”

“Have you tried?”

“I will still stab you, don't think I won't.” Murphy threatened, pushing away from the tree and Wells. He wiped his sleeve over his eyes to dry them, but dirty tear tracks still stained his cheeks. Maybe he should kill Wells for seeing him cry, he did have a reputation to uphold, after all.

“You won't.” Wells insisted. He didn't actually know that, and he was slightly worried that Murphy actually would, but he was hoping it was just a joke. “You aren't that person, remember?”

“I am.” Murphy said, as though it were a fact and not the horrific display of self hatred that it was. He was angry and violent and he preferred to speak with his fists. He wasn't good at expressing himself because he was scared of being weak and that, all of the shit he'd been through in his life paired with all of the shit he'd done to others, it made him the bad guy. He was that person, it was just the way it was.

“You know, you don't have to be.”

“Are you going to give me a pep talk, because I'm serious about the stabbing.”

“No, no pep talks. I promise.” Wells held up his hands in surrender, chuckling softly and earning a grin for his efforts. He found he kind of liked it when Murphy's smile wasn't brought on due to murderous thoughts. Given the right influence, he could be a good kid, he just had to be given a reason to be. Maybe, if Murphy would agree to never try to kill him again, they might be able to work with that. Wells was willing to help him if Murphy was willing to accept it. “But, if you want, I could help you with the grief thing. I mean, I had my dad to help me, but you didn't really have anyone so, if you want-”

“Why?”

The question caught Wells off guard. He didn't actually have an answer to it. Murphy had literally been about to kill him moments ago and now he was offering to help him out? Had he gone completely nuts? It was probably the increase in oxygen on Earth. Had him doing stupid things. Regardless, he meant the offer. “I don't know, actually, but it seems like you could use some help.”

Murphy stilled, eyes darting from the wound on Wells' neck to the knife still lying in the dirt. He'd been ready to kill Wells and now Wells was offering him _help?_ “You're crazier than Spacewalker.”

“Maybe.” Wells shrugged.

“Would that make us _friends_ or something?” Murphy spit the word as if it were poison and it made Wells wonder if he actually had any of those, besides the boy he'd seen him hanging around the campfire with, at least.

“If you want to be? But I was thinking more like a grief counselor or something like that. Friends works, too.”

“You'd be friends with someone who tried to kill you?”

Wells gave a helpless shrug and tried to find some reason behind it, “Hey, I mean, we all make mistakes?”

Murphy laughed, loud and almost happy sounding and it made Wells smile wider. Yeah, Murphy was a jerk but a lot of the time, when people were like that, it was because they were broken and scared and never had anyone tell them that it was okay to be so they went their entire lives being unhappy and bottling everything up because they weren't sure what else to do with it. At least, that's what his mother had taught him. His father would say different, but so far, his father didn't seem to be the best judge. “Does that mean I have to apologize for trying to kill you?”

“It would be nice.”

“It's not happening.”

“I didn't really expect it, too.”

“You know, you should probably get a bandaid for that.” Murphy pointed to his neck, though Wells really didn't need the clarification.

“Yeah, I'll just tell Clarke some nutjob tried to kill me in the woods. That'll work.”

“Or you could say you tripped.”

“I tripped?”

“Worked for me.” Murphy shrugged. “Say it was an accident, no one asks questions.”

The comment made Wells feel a stab of pity for Murphy but he doubted that was what Murphy wanted. He'd probably end up pinned to the tree again if he mentioned it. “I probably won't have to tell her anything, honestly. She's still not talking to me.”

“That's rough. Have you tried flowers? Or you could always go down on her, I'm sure she'd- Hey!” Murphy laughed, rubbing the back of his head where Wells had smacked him. “It was just a suggestion. I'm just trying to help my new _friend,_ damn.”

“Shut up, Murphy.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Feedback is loved. You can find me here: [assholemurphy](http://assholemurphy.tumblr.com/)


End file.
